In Danger's Path
by Breakaway25
Summary: With the war in the Pacific moving towards a new balance, the US Navy decides that the time has come to support their other coast. With a new base and a new commander in the Atlantic theater, the war against the Abyssals moves into an entirely new phase.
1. Chapter 1

"I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast; for I intend to go into harm's way."

 **John Paul Jones**

 **Naval Station Norfolk, Norfolk, Virginia, July 14, 2018**

NS Norfolk was almost unrecognizable. The war had taken a heavy toll on the men, women, and ships stationed there. The once bustling base, was now almost empty. Only a handful of ships were berthed in the base, and the majority of those were damaged. For Lieutenant Commander Emily "Mack" Mackenzie, USNR, it was a sad sight to witness. Her first tour as an officer had been on a cruiser based in this very port. That ship had been lost some time ago, trying to combat an enemy that seemed almost insurmountable. She stood on the bridge wing, staring at what had become of the once proud base. Even the great aircraft carrier stood silent and empty. She knew that it was only allowed to venture a few miles off shore to intercept Abyssal attacks, and only occasionally. She took a deep breath, there was a time for morning what had been lost, and there was a time to do one's job, and this was a case of the second.

Mack was currently the executive officer, XO, of the littoral combat ship, USS _Fort Worth_ (LCS-3), one of the few members of her class still afloat. They had been lucky, the _Fort Worth_ had been restrained to a rear echelon position in order to serve a technology demonstrator. Light duty that kept the ship far from the Abyssals. Now they were home again, and the war's effects were painfully evident. Mackenzie was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't hear as someone joined her on the wing. "That sure is a sad sight." She whirled about to see Commander Sam Dover, the _Fort Worth_ 's captain.

"Sir, I don't know what to say," Mack replied.

"You'll say you're happy," Dover said, "You're going to your first command, Commander. That's a moment that you will never forget. Hell, I still remember when I received mine."

"But, sir, under the circumstances…" Mack began.

"Circumstances, hell, you've earned that command Mack, you did wonders to shape this ship up after everyone's morale took a nosedive," Dover cut her off, "And you deserve every bit of praise I heaped onto you in your last FITREP."

"I don't even know what it is yet, captain," Mack commented, "All I have are a set of transfer papers, and an order to report to the base commander here. It's probably some desk job in base HQ."

"Then you will make the best desk jockey on this base," Dover announced, "Seriously Mack, stop selling yourself short. It's annoying to have to keep building you back up." Mackenzie shot her captain a dirty look, and was met by the same jovial grin he displayed to everyone. "Look, commander, go to your quarters, and get your stuff packed. We'll pull in in ten minutes, and I want you to be the first one down the gangplank when we do. No sense being late to your first command."

"Aye sir," Mack replied, then turned to leave.

"And Mack," Dover said right as she was about to step into the bridge, "Give 'em hell."

"Yes sir," she replied, with a wry smile. The walk from the bridge to her stateroom wasn't a long one, the _Fort Worth_ was a small ship after all. She had already packed her personal effects in her sea bag. All she had to do to get ready to leave, was to grab it and go, but there was one thing she had to do first. No matter how comfortable her utilities were, reporting aboard wearing what was, essentially, a work shirt, was not a very good way to make a first impression. Mack had left her summer white uniform laid out on her rack, all she had to do was change into it, and stow the NWUs.

Five minutes later, she was examining herself in the room's mirror, making absolutely certain that the uniform was perfect. She examined her frame in the mirror for several seconds. Mack had always been an average woman. Average height and average build, she certainly wouldn't turn any heads in a crowd. She reached up briefly to make sure that her hair was properly tied up, and then fixed a stray strand back into place. She always had that problem, her dark red hair never wanted to stay in place. She looked directly into her own, green eyes for several seconds, mentally asking herself if she was ready for this.

Ten minutes after that, the 1MC squawked with the news that the _Fort Worth_ had been tied up to her pier. Mackenzie was the first one down the gangplank, as per the captain's orders. Norfolk is one of the largest facilities currently occupied by the US Navy. At its peak, it could handle dozens of ships, their support equipment, and their crews comfortably and efficiently. With the handful of ships taking advantage of these facilities, the base seemed abandoned. Instead of the usual bustle of yard workers and crewmen, the only people around was a gang of yard apes working to repair a very large hole in a _Ticonderoga_ class cruiser. Mack thought that the scene almost looked spooky.

It took her several minutes to locate the main headquarters building. It had been many years since she had been on this base, and it was just as confusing now, as it had been back then. It took her a bit to find the red, brick building that housed the main headquarters for the base. She made her way inside and asked the yeoman on duty for directions to the office where she was supposed to go. She was a bit surprised to learn that when she found the office, that it belonged to the commanding admiral of NS Norfolk. She had to stand outside the door for several moments before she worked up the courage to knock.

A second later a curt, "Enter," could be heard through the door. Mackenzie marched in and stood at attention before the admiral.

"Lieutenant Commander Emily Mackenzie reporting to the admiral as order," she barked in her best parade field voice.

"At ease, please," Mackenzie looked down at the admiral. The admiral was an older woman, who barely was taller than her desk. Her silver hair was done up in a tight bun. She had a kind face, which contrasted greatly with the stars she wore on each shoulder board. The admiral didn't look anything like what Mackenzie thought a naval officer should look like, she looked like someone's grandmother. It became painfully obvious after a minute, that while Mack had been sizing that admiral up, she had been sizing Mack up.

"Commander," she began, breaking the tense silence that had formed, "I'm Admiral Simms, the CO of the naval station."

"Ma'am," Mackenzie replied, "Can you explain to me what my new duty assignment will be?"

"Actually I can't, I' not the one who assigned it to you," she said.

"With respect, ma'am, if you didn't, then who did?" Mackenzie asked, confused.

"That would be me, commander," said a new voice behind Mack. She turned about to see who was speaking, and almost fainted. She instantly recognized the face of the Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Mike Richards.

"Ad-admiral, sir," she stammered.

"At ease commander," he said, chuckling, "I'm not the mythical man the Navy makes me out to be."

"I don't know, sir, you're pretty mythical to me," Admiral Simms quipped, earning her a dirty look from Richards.

Richards turned back to Mack and said, "Commander Mackenzie, your orders come directly from the desk of the President, I chose you myself to be the OIC for this little outfit." Mack was stunned, orders from the President? _The_ President? And the CNO picked her exclusively?

"Sir, with all due respect, why would you pick me? I'm nobody."

"You are a gifted commander with leadership scores well above your peers. You displayed great courage during the last attack, and you're up for command," Richards listed, counting off each point on his fingers, "Relax, commander, I'm not going to tell you to go lead a SEAL team, what I'm offering is a purely administrative command, ashore."

"Sir, what type of command would require the President's order, and the CNO's opinion?" Mack asked, regaining a bit of her courage.

"One that is secret," Richards replied, then turned to Simms, "Admiral, I assume that you've been read in on this?"

She looked up at the CNO and said, "What? You mean the thing with the… the thing we've got going out at Midway?"

"Yes, and it's good to see that our flag officers were briefed on this. It's nice to know that at least some of my orders are being carried out." Richards looked straight at Mack, causing an involuntary shiver to run up her spine. "I have a packet for you outlining the exact details of the command, but let me give you the cliff notes. What do you know about the ship girls?"

"Sir?" Mack said, confused by the sudden change in subject.

"It's a serious question, commander, what do you know about them?' Richards asked again.

"Sir, I've worked with the British girls before. We picked them up during their escort runs on occasion. What I learned from talking with them, is that they are the embodiments of the spirits who inhabited the hulls of their namesake warships."

"Good," Richards exclaimed, "That's one less thing I have to deal with. You are correct commander, the girls used to be ships. We called for them to return to fight once more, and they came back with two legs, two arms, and a lot of confusion."

"Sir, if I may ask, what does his have to do with me?" Mack asked, trying desperately to piece the scattered trail of information together.

"Commander, what would you think if I told you that we have our own ship girl program in place?" Richards asked.

"Sir, I wouldn't know what to think," Mack replied.

"Well, better start fixing that, because that is exactly what I'm telling you," Richards said, "We've been running our own ship girl program for the last few weeks now, to great success." He reached into a briefcase at his feet produced a folder. He passed it to Mack, explaining, "Here's a snapshot of the current group." Mack looked down at the photo inside the folder. It was, indeed, a picture of a group of girls, appearing to range in age from early teens to late twenties. They were all standing together, and smiling for the camera.

Richards pointed to a man standing at the center of the group, when Mack looked closer, the indicated figure stood out from the girls around him due main to the eyepatch he was wearing. "That's the current commander of our program. One Captain James Smith."

"Sir," Mack asked after handing the picture back to Richards, "What does all this mean?"

"What it means, commander, is that you are going to command the second ship girl base," Richards stated.

"What?" Mack exclaimed.

"Yes, you will lead the second base we're forming, right here in Norfolk," Richards continued, "The packet will have more pertinent info, and for any future reference, the term the Navy Department came up with for them is Fleet Auxiliary Personnel."

"Just a minute, sir," Admiral Simms spoke up, "Just when exactly were you planning on telling me that you would be creating a ship girl, sorry, fleet auxiliary detachment on my base?"

"I just did, didn't I?" Richards said.

"Sir, I need time for things like this, it will take time to get facilities ready, we need to allocate quarters, not to mention who will have to be reassigned to work on this, and the…" Simms said.

"Admiral, calm down," Richards cut her off, "It will be a few days before the fleet auxiliaries even get here, and even then, it will take a few weeks for Commander Mackenzie to get them up to speed. You have facilities for the British girls to use here, don't you?"

"Yes, sir, whenever they come in on a convoy run, we put them up in one of the old barracks buildings," Simms replied.

"Then start by turning over a barracks similar to that to Commander Makenzie for her use," Richards suggested. He pulled something else out of his briefcase and handed it to Mack. It was a very large, very thick manila envelope with the words, "Top Secret," liberally stamped across the font in large, red letters. Even the flap was sealed with the red and white striped security tape used for sensitive materials. "I don't need to tell you not to disclose the contents of that packet with anyone, do I?" Richards asked, "With the sole exception of Admiral Simms. You are allowed to read her in on any details you think are pertinent to the operation of your detachment, but nothing else. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Mack replied.

"Good, then if you have no further questions, I think that I will take my leave," Richards said, slamming his briefcase shut, "Good day, Admiral, and good luck, commander." Richards walked out the door and disappeared.

Simms waited a few minutes, then said, "I hope that was just as much of a bombshell for you as it was for me."

"Yes ma'am," Mack replied, a little breathlessly, "That was not where I was expecting this day to go."

Simms nodded, then pressed a button on her desk, "Yeoman, send for Chief Farnsworth please. Tell him to meet me in their barracks." Simms explained quickly, "Chief Farnsworth is our current liaison for the Royal Navy's Shipgirl Corps. If there's anyone on this base who could help bring you up to speed, it's him."

"Thank you, admiral," Mack said.

"Just ask the yeoman to lead you to the Ship girl barracks on your way out," Simms added, "It's not far from here. Then I think you can find the BOQ on your own?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then, I believe that you have an appointment to keep, commander," Simms said, "Dismissed."

"Aye, ma'am," Mack said, then did a crisp about face, and walked out of the office. She didn't realize that she had been holding her breath until she stepped out into the hallway.

The yeoman was at his desk when she walked up to him, she was about to ask for directions, when he asked, "Ma'am, did I see the CNO come in here?"

"Yes, you did, but keep that secret. I got the impression that he was here unofficially," Mack countered.

"Aye, ma'am, no sense getting into trouble for matters above my paygrade. What can I help you with, ma'am?"

"I need directions petty officer, to the ship girl barracks," Mack explained.

"I can help you out there, if you would, please follow me," the yeoman said, then stood up from his desk, and began to walk out. Mack followed him closely as he walked across the base.

 **NS Midway Island**

"You wanted to see me, sir," asked the battleship Nevada as she stuck her head into Captain Smith's office.

"Yes, yes, come in, please," he said, and made a, 'come here' gesture with his hands. "I'm pretty sure you've heard about the transfer from the scuttlebutt news service by now, so I'll spare you that news, so just ask me any questions you have."

"Sir," she began, "Why am I being transferred?"

"You'll be moving to the Atlantic theater, we wanted girls who had experience over there, and you were on that list," Smith explained, "The new base is in Norfolk, on the Naval Station."

"How are we getting there?"

"Air Force to the states, then commercial to Norfolk," Smith replied, "Don't worry, there will be an officer to meet you stateside, he'll lead you through the process of flying commercial." Smith reached into his desk and pulled something out, "And before I forget, congratulations Ensign Nevada, the paperwork will make its way through channels eventually, but I got the co ahead from CINPAC to give you these." Nevada took a felt box from Smith and looked inside. It was a pair of gold bars, the rank insignia of an ensign.

"Sir, I'm not qualified to be an officer, I have no experience with this…" she began to protest, but was stopped by a stern look from Smith.

"How do you think I felt when I got my bar?" he asked, rhetorically, "You will do fine, Enterprise thinks you'll make a good commander, and I agree with her."

"I'll do my best, sir," she announced.

"That's all we can really hope for," Smith said, then added, "Oh, and one other thing, when you get there, I'm not your commanding officer anymore. Treat your new CO with just as much respect and professionalism that you show me, and you will have no problems, but be ready for anything. And, please, please, please, keep the destroyers reigned in. Norfolk is a large base in the middle of a large city, there are all sorts of creative ways for them to get into trouble out there, keep an eye on them."

"Do you have anything else, sir?" Nevada asked.

"Nope, you plane leaves tomorrow at 1600, be on the tarmac, and relay everything to the rest of the transferees if you would," Smith said. Nevada nodded, and walked out of the captain's office, only to be ambushed by Bogue.

"So what did he say? What did he say?" the energetic escort carrier asked.

"That the orders are official," Nevada replied, "We're being transferred stateside tomorrow."

"But why would they do that?" Bogue asked, "What point is there to transfer us?"

"There's a new base forming in Norfolk, the top brass wants girls who have Atlantic experience there."

"Yes, I noticed that," Bogue replied, "That all of the girls on that list were in the Atlantic at one point in their careers." She continued to ramble on for a few more seconds, but Nevada was too focused on the box in her hands to listen. A fact that Bogue caught onto rapidly. "You aren't even listening, are you," she accused, "Why does no one ever listen?"

"Maybe because you use too many words?" said a new voice, one that made the hair on Nevada's neck prickle.

"Pennsylvania," Nevada said in the calmest tone she could manage, "Do not insult people, its unprofessional."

"Yeah, what she said," Bogue jumped in. Nevada groaned internally, the little escort had just made things worse.

"What do I care about professionalism? I'm a battleship that's all the professionalism I need," Pennsy quipped back.

"Because," Nevada continued in her measured tone, "One day you might be up for promotion, and if you don't stack up, you will never get a set of these." Nevada held up the gold bars so that Pennsy could see them clearly. Nevada knew that it was a childish move to brag about her new rank, but at this point she just wanted to rub it in Pennsy's face.

"What you, how did you? There is something fundamentally wrong with a Navy that would give you a commission before me," Pennsy stated.

"You keep tellin yourself that Pennsy," Bogue said, "But Nevada's got the bars, and you don't."

"We'll see about that," Pennsy said, then walked off in a huff, directly towards Smith's office.

"Come on," Nevada said.

"To where?" Bogue asked.

"I would like to be as far away from this office as possible when she asks the captain for a commission."

"I see your point," Bogue conceded, "We can head back to the mess, you can show off your new bars to the rest of the girls going to Norfolk," Bogue suggested.

"As much as I would like to, right now all I want to do is sit, and think things through," Nevada said, "Go on, Bogue, I'll see you later."

"Alright then, have fun," the escort said, then ran off. Nevada followed her at a much slower pace, eventually hooking a left towards the battleship barracks. She spent the better part of an hour sitting on her bed, staring at the gold bars, trying to think about what she was going to do. Eventually, she gave up, and went to sleep.

 **A/N:**

Well here it is, my first official spin off. I wanted to do a bit about the war in the Atlantic, and seeing as my main fic is already in the loads and loads of characters phase, I decided to start from scratch.

This fic will be focusing on a core group of a few characters, and keep things more linear than the main fic.


	2. Chapter 2

**NS Norfolk, July 17, 2018**

Chief Farnsworth was a very hard man to find. Mack had spent the better part of an hour trying to find the British liaison, to no avail. She had visited the barracks assigned to the British transients, only to be told that he was out and, no, they did not know where he had gone. She had received similar news from the commissary, the NEX, and even the workshops given over for British use. She had come to the enlisted club in a last ditch attempt to find the man. She had no idea what he would do if he wasn't here. She pushed open the door and was immediately assaulted by the smell of stale beer, and old cigarette smoke. Curbing her revulsion, she walked over to the bar. A man wearing the insignia of a storekeeper 1st was wiping down the long, bar with a rag.

"What can I do for the commander, today?" he asked after shooting a glance to look at Mack's collarpoint devices.

"Is Chief Farnsworth in here, by any chance?" Mack asked.

"English? Yeah, he's over there, ma'am," the barkeeper said, using his rag to point towards a man seated at the end of the bar. Mack thanked him with a nod, then walked over to that end of the bar.

"Chief Petty Officer Farnsworth?" Mack asked the man.

"Who wants to know," he grunted.

"Chief, I don't know how things work in your Navy, but in my Navy it is customary for chiefs to display a higher level of respect toward officers," Mack said, her voice smoldering.

"I apologize, ma'am, but I just got some bad news and I'm not in the best mental state right now," Farnsworth said, his voice growing tired.

"What did you hear?" Mack asked, growing suddenly curious.

"One of the convoys got hit a few hours ago," Farnsworth explained, "My girls were the escorts. They saved the merchants, but we lost one of our destroyers."

"I'm sorry," Mack replied.

"That's alright, I didn't know her that well," Farnsworth replied, taking a slug from his drink, "She had just come back recently, and hadn't come through this post yet."

"It must be hard, to send them into battle when they look like they do," Mack figured.

"Yes, commander, it is," Farnsworth replied, "Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I need to ask you a few questions, chief," Mack said, once they were seated in a booth away from the rest of the people in the club.

"What about, commander?" Farnsworth asked.

"Chief, we are about to establish a US ship girl command on this base, and I'm going to be its commander," Mack explained, "And I need to know, what can you tell me about the ship girls? You seem to be the expert on this base."

Farnsworth leaned back in his seat, "Now there's a difficult one. Mine if I grab a drink?" Mack gave him a nod of approval, and he waved the bartender over. After ordering a drink, he continued, "They are probably the strangest people I've ever worked with."

"How so?" Mack asked.

"When you first look at a girl, you think, 'Why on earth would they let this young thing fight in this war?' And then you start talking to her," he said, then his gaze grew distant, and his tone melancholy, "Then you realize just how much these girls have seen."

"How do you deal with them, on base?" Mack asked.

"Well, we Brits are special, ma'am," Farnsworth replied, "Our girls aren't allowed to be ordered around by regulars like me. No, they take orders from their own only. All I can do is give suggestions."

"What do you mean by that?"

"In our ship girl corps, the girls can only take orders from other ship girls. They aren't in the Navy chain of command. I don't know why the admiralty set it up like that, but I can't complain," Farnsworth explained, "I can't take orders from them either."

"So, how do I deal with them?"

"First thing, ma'am, forget everything you've learned about how to treat sailors," Farnsworth began, "These girls will fight fanatically, when they're on a mission, but when they're on base, they act just like any other girl. Prepare to rescue them from the SPs on a regular basis."

"I think that they would be able to keep themselves out of that sort of trouble," Mack said, firmly.

"It's not that they try to get into trouble," Farnsworth said, "It's just that trouble has a bad habit of following them wherever they go. It's partly a lack of cultural expertise, and partly just not understanding how the outside world works. They tend to get into delicate situations on a regular basis."

"So I'm guessing that you have to visit the local police from time to time?" Mack asked.

"Sometimes, they tend to go bar crawling after a hard mission, and we put up with it," Farnsworth explained, "We worked out a deal with the local police and the SPs that if one of them gets picked up, they get put in the Norfolk brig to rest for a night, then turned back over to me and the ship girl OIC.

"What about training, weapons?" Mack asked, changing the subject.

"They'll have to train themselves for the most part, ma'am, but they should be well versed in that already," Farnsworth said, "And I'm sure that my girls wouldn't mind giving pointers when they're on base."

"Thanks chief," Mack said, standing up, "You've been helpful." She reached into her pocket, and passed Farnsworth a business card. "That's my contact info, and the location of our headquarters. Drop in sometime when the girls get here, and I'll let you talk to them."

"I might just take you up on that," Farnsworth said, taking the card, "If I may, when are the girls going to get here?"

"Sometime this week, chief. They're flying commercial," Mack explained, "This is still a sensitive subject in my government, and we didn't want to draw attention to them."

"That might have been a bad decision, ma'am. If experience has taught us anything, it's that these girls are anything but inconspicuous when it comes to flying," Farnsworth said.

"I don't make the rules, chief, I just follow them," Mack said, "Thanks for your time." Farnsworth nodded as Mack walked out of the club. "I do wonder how the girls are getting on," she muttered to herself as she made her way back to her new office.

 **Los Angeles International Airport**

"What do you mean you lost Bogue and Clemson? How can you lose Bogue and Clemson? Those two stick out like sore thumbs," Nevada said, trying desperately to keep from shouting. After a long haul flight from Midway, the girls were sitting in LAX waiting for their flight to the east coast. Nevada had given permission for her girls to go wander around the terminal.

"I'm sorry, we were looking through the airport, and I got stopped by security, and I lost track of them for five minutes, at the most," replied a rather shaken Ranger. The raven haired aircraft carrier was about the same height and build as Nevada, and looked at her with pleading blue eyes.

"The way those two act, it's a wonder why they haven't burned down the airport yet," muttered Tuscaloosa who looked up briefly from her sports magazine to give Ranger a look, "How could you lose them?" The heavy cruiser was a bit shorter than Nevada, but had a heavier build.

"Would you be quiet," Ranger snapped, "And take that shirt off, you're going to get shot." Due to current naval regulations, the girls weren't allowed to wear their uniforms while flying commercial. Most of them had donned Navy related t-shirts, but Tuscaloosa had gone with something a bit different. She was wearing a dark red University of Alabama t-shirt.

"What, I like it," Tuscaloosa shot back, "Roll Tide." Ranger gave her a glare, then stuck out her tongue at the cruiser.

"You're not helping," Nevada said to Tuscaloosa, causing her to go back to flipping through her magazine. She turned back to Ranger, "Where did you lose them?"

"Near the food court," Ranger replied.

"Come on, let's go find them before they do something stupid," Nevada said, then quickly walked away. She wasn't proud that she had to ask for directions, twice, but LAX was a big place.

"I'm sorry for losing track of them," Ranger repeated.

"Its fine, if those two want to get away and cause trouble, they're going to get away and cause trouble," Nevada said, "Focus on finding them now."

"Aye, ma'am." She figured that it would be easy to locate the missing pair of girls. There weren't that many people in the airport today. Understandably, not many people were flying these days, what with the war suspending overseas flights, and the closure of the sea lanes putting a premium on oil. But the pair were proving exceedingly difficult to locate. The pair stopped when they ran into Wichita. The blonde haired cruiser was bent over, looking into the window of a shop.

She looked up when she heard Nevada and Ranger approach, then asked, "What are you doing running around over here, Nevada?"

Ranger answered before Nevada got the chance, "Bogue and Clemson ran off, we're trying to find them before the police do."

Wichita pointed down the corridor, "I think I saw them running that way."

"Thanks," Nevada replied, "Come on, let's go." Ranger nodded, then followed her CO deeper into the airport.

They finally caught a break as to the location of the wayward ship girls when they heard someone shout, "Hey, stop. Get back here with that." Nevada turned to look in the direction of the shout, and had to jump out of the way of a scooter. She had seen them being used by the airport security to patrol the terminal. Nevada was horrified to see Bogue standing on the thing, gripping the handlebars, and little Clemson had her arms wrapped tightly around Bogue's shoulders, trying to remain on the scooter.

The pair had been so focused on the airport security man chasing them that they didn't even see Nevada, until she shouted, "Petty officer, what the hell are you doing?" Bogue's head snapped around at the sound of her CO shouting, and she lost control of the scooter, causing it to crash into a bench. Nevada walked over to make sure that the girls were alright, and was relieved to see that they were no worse for wear. Bogue looked up at Nevada, and let out a squeak of surprise. "That's right, you're in trouble. It's a good thing we're not on Midway right now, or Chief Boggs would have a field day with you two."

Before she could say anything else, the airport cop that the scooter had belonged to ran up and said, "Miss, do you know these two."

"Unfortunately, yes, and they will be dealt with, officer," Nevada said, "I don't know what possessed you two to try this, but you will be going on report."

"Miss, I'm sorry but I have to take them into custody," the airport cop interrupted, "I'm sure the facility would like to press charges." Nevada sighed then fished out her wallet. The showed the officer her brand new Navy identification card.

"Lieutenant Siebert, these two are Petty officer Bogue, and Seaman Clemson," Nevada explained, pointing to the respective girls.

"You're Navy?" he said after getting a good look at the ID.

"Yes, and I'm their superior," Nevada explained, "I will deal with them accordingly." The cop had a pained look as he tried to decide what to do.

Finally he handed the ID card back, picked up his scooter, and said, "Have a nice day, ma'am." Nevada gave him a friendly wave, then turned to look at the two girls still sprawled out on the floor.

"Do I need to explain to you just how much trouble you two are in?" Nevada asked, her tone icily cold.

"No, we're going ma'am," Bogue said, slowly standing up. She reached down and hauled Clemson up.

After they had left, Ranger said, "I'm sorry, they were my responsibility, and I let them get past me."

"Would you quit apologizing," Nevada said, "I told you, those two could give anyone the runaround. They've been spending too much time with Sammy, and it's rubbed off on them." Nevada gave Ranger another look, then said, "Go on, keep up with them. You can talk to them first before I get around to it."

"Yes ma'am," Ranger barked, then ran after the pair. Nevada stood and simply shook her head. It took all of her control to keep from laughing her head off at the two escort's antics.

"You find them?" she head Wichita ask. Nevada turned to see the blonde cruiser walk up with Benson in tow.

"Yeah, I did," Nevada replied, "They stole, and then wrecked a police scooter."

"I guess that's better than the time Bogue used her fighters to buzz the skipper," Wichita mused.

"I guess," Nevada replied, then turned to Benson, "Where have you been?"

The younger destroyer replied, "We found a spot to watch the tarmac, and were watching airplanes when Wichita found me. It's amazing how big they are."

"So your Ron is?" Nevada asked, referring to DesRon 7, Benson's command.

"Back in the waiting room," Benson replied, "They called our flight five minutes ago, we need to start boarding soon."

"Then we better get going," Nevada announced, then began to walk back to their gate. She saw once they were back, that the plane had appeared while she had been gone. It was a large thing, with two jet engines hanging from the wings. She had had a bit of trouble trying to herd her girls onto the plane, but they went eventually. She was a bit startled by the amount of people that could be seated in this plane, but pushed that aside in order to locate their assigned seats. She made certain to sit Bogue and Clemson in the same row, then stuck Ranger on the aisle seat to keep them in check. A few minutes later she had seated herself, and a few minutes after that, they were airborne. She tried to sleep during the long flight, but she was too enthralled by the world passing by the window to sleep.

 **Norfolk International Airport**

Nevada couldn't help but stretch her neck out once she left the airplane. Several hours sitting in that seat had left her with one monster crick. It had taken the rest of the day and another plane for the group of ship girls to arrive at their final destination, but they were here. She led the girls out into the main building, making sure to keep the pair of troublesome escorts well within her view. She had a bit of trouble finding their ride, but she spotted a man near the baggage claim, wearing NWUs and carrying a piece of cardboard with, "Lt. Siebert," written on it.

"I'm Lieutenant Sims," Nevada said, walking up to the man.

"Ma'am, I'm Petty Officer Harris, I'm supposed to take you back to the commander," the man explained.

"Very well then, lead on petty officer," Nevada said. Harris walked out of the terminal, tossing the sign into a trash can as he walked out. He led them to a Navy gray painted bus sitting in the parking lot. A few minutes later they were on the road to the Naval Station. Harris was driving the bus himself, and Nevada didn't waste the opportunity to ask him a few questions. "You said, the commander, which commander?"

"Lieutenant Commander Emily Mackenzie, ma'am," he replied, "But I've heard that people like to call her Mack. She used to be the XO on an LCS, got transferred to lead an admin command on the base. I guess you'll be working for her, lieutenant," Harris replied.

"So you don't work for the commander?"

"Nope, I work for Admiral Simms, the OIC of the station, ma'am."

"Ah, okay then," Nevada said, then sat back in her chair.

"Ma'am, may I ask you a question," Harris spoke up a minute later.

"Shoot."

"Ma'am, well I don't really know how to ask this," he stumbled.

"Just spit it out petty officer," Nevada said.

"Are you girls, ship girls?" he asked, stunning Nevada speechless.

When she finally regained her tongue, she said, "What makes you think that?"

"Ma'am, it's just that I work with the Brits when they're on base, and the only time I've seen girls as young as them," he nodded to the back of the bus where Benson and her DesRon were seated, "In uniform, is when they're ship girls." Nevada leaned in close to Harris, even though there was no one on this bus who didn't already know what she was about to say, she couldn't help but feel that this was a big secret.

"Yes, they are," she replied, "As a matter of fact, I'm one too. Jeep that on the down low, would you? It's still supposed to be secret."

"I've heard rumblings, ma'am, but it's just scuttlebutt right now," Harris said, then asked, "If you don't mind me asking, which ship were you? Are you?"

"The battleship USS _Nevada_ BB-36," Nevada replied with a note of pride in her voice, "I took it on the chin at Pearl, but came back swinging and slammed the krauts at Normandy."

"Who else is in the bus, ma'am?" Harris asked next.

"The tall one behind me is Ranger, CV-4," Nevada said, pointing, "The two next to her are Bogue and Clemson. An escort carrier and a destroyer, respectively. The two older ones behind them are Tuscaloosa and Wichita, both heavy cruisers. And the five in the very back are Benson and her destroyer squadron, Mayo, Gleaves, Niblack, and Plunkett."

"Not many here, are you the only ship girls we have?" Harris asked.

"Oh, no, there are lots more here. It's just they wanted girls with experience in the Atlantic to come over to this base, and we all have that," Nevada explained, "Back on the main base there are dozens of girls, but we're still gearing up for war for the most part."

"I hope we get stuck in soon, ma'am," Harris said as he pulled the bus up to the main gate, "We've taken way too much of a beating from those Abyssal bastards."

"Me too, me too," Nevada muttered as the bus pulled through the gate and parked near the HQ building. "Is there somewhere where I could change into my uniform?" Nevada asked, "I would prefer to meet my new CO in something other than a 'Go Navy' t-shirt."

"NEX is one building over, they should have changing rooms," Harris said, then pointed to the building in question.

"Thanks," Nevada said, then hopped out of the bus, her seabag slung over her shoulder. Ten minutes later she was walking towards the headquarters wearing a fresh set of khakis, the lieutenant's bars weighing heavy on her collarpoints. The rest of her girls had similarly changed uniforms, and were waiting in the NEX food court for her to come back, or, in the case of a few, shopping for clothes. Nevada tried to not think about them as she made her way to talk to her new commander, wondering what the woman would be like.

 **Author's Note:**

This story will have chapters a bit shorter than the main one. Partly for faster updates, partly because I don't expect there to be nearly as many subplots as the main one.

I'm going to go back to answering reviews, because I like doing this:

Colonel AmiruddinArifSulaiman: I hope so, I have plans for the future, but who knows how they'll turn out.

still-guns: Answered this one in PM, but I'll say it here too. Smith was injured during the fight that killed his ship. He lost his left eye due to that injury and wears an eyepatch now.

Lord Khuzdul: We really didn't use subs in the Atlantic, and I'm trying to use history as a basis for my force deployments, but we will get to see a few more of the "crazy" destroyers than the few I've shown.

Wolfman-053: Is my answer sufficient? In all honesty there were every few carriers in the Atlantic. The only famous ones were Ranger, Bogue, and Guadalcanal.

Thorthemighty321: I'm trying to keep this cast of characters a bit smaller than the first fic. When I start having trouble keeping them strait I know I have too many.


	3. Chapter 3

**NS Norfolk, July 18, 2018**

Norfolk certainly had changed since the last time Nevada had been here. She could only see about ten ships tied up at the various piers, instead of the hundreds that she had witnessed towards the end of the war. The few ships she could see, looked worn and beat up. Like they had just returned from battle. Metal was warped, paint scorched, cables frayed, and rust evident. She could see the bright flares of welding torches as yard apes did their best to repair the damage. This had to be the work of the Abyssals, but she hadn't thought it was this bad. "It looks worse than it is, trust me," Nevada wheeled around to see who was speaking. There was a petite woman leaning against one of the stanchions lining the harbor. Nevada immediately stiffened, because whoever it was, she was wearing the silver oak leaves of a lieutenant commander.

"How so?" Nevada asked, so startled that she forgot to add, "Ma'am."

The commander decided to ignore the battleship's blunder, and replied, "These ships are still floating. There used to be twice this many at least."

Nevada's eyes went wide, and she said in a low voice, "We've really taken that much of a beating?"

"Fraid so," the commander replied, then looked at Nevada, "You must be Nevada? My new battleship?"

"You mean, you're?"

The commander stuck out her hand, "Lieutenant Commander Emily Mackenzie, but you can call me Mack." Nevada silently took Mack's hand, taking a long look at her new CO.

"How do you know who I am?" Nevada finally managed to ask, "Isn't that supposed to be a secret?"

"Your driver called me after he dropped you off. Told me what to look for. I am your new commanding officer after all," Mack said, smiling widely.

"You…" Nevada trailed off, stunned, "Aren't you supposed to be waiting for me in the headquarters?"

"Is there I reason I should? I wanted to meet my new subordinates out in the open. Speaking of which, where's the rest of them?" Mack pushed herself off the safety chain, then stretched. "Come on you, let's go find them."

"But, ma'am, don't you want me to report in?" Nevada asked, flustered.

Mack waved her off, "That can wait for later. Right now I want to meet the rest of the girls." Nevada was stunned by this woman's cavalier attitude, wasn't a CO responsible for making sure their subordinates reported in on time?

"They're in the barracks, getting settled," Nevada finally said.

Mack clapped her hands together, loudly, "Good, then we can go see them right away." She began walking away, then turned back when she realized that Nevada wasn't following. "You coming? Or do I need to make that an order?" Why was she acting like this? Wasn't an officer supposed to maintain a professional rapport with their subordinates at all times?

Nevada shook her head to clear it, "Yes, ma'am." She bounded after Mack, quickly catching up to the shorter woman.

"So you used to be a ship, right?" Nevada had gotten used to this question by now. It always seemed to be the first one she was asked. That or, "So which one were you?"

"Yeah," was the only thing she could manage to say.

"I always admired the big gun battleships," Mack announced, "I always wanted to command one. I guess this is about as close as I'll ever get to that." Nevada was a little taken aback. Why was this officer, a senior one at that, sharing things about herself? Captain Smith never talked about his personal life, at least not while he was acting officially. He had been known to tell the occasional sea story, especially after a few drinks at the club.

Nevada couldn't help but ask, "Ma'am, if you don't mind? Why are you telling me this?"

Mack shrugged, "I guess you seem like someone I can relate too. I don't really know why, just the feeling I get." Nevada decided to silent for the rest of the walk. She was still having trouble to form an opinion about this CO. Mack didn't stay silent, continuing to say, "I have to warn you, this is my first command. So I'm going to need any help that you can give me."

Nevada stopped suddenly, "They assigned us a brand new commander?" Mack stopped as well, and turned to look at Nevada for a long moment.

She explained, "I was assigned this post by the CNO. He wanted someone who didn't have too many traits to unlearn. Someone who didn't have command experience to screw up their perception of this position. I get the feeling that there are big things in store for you girls." Nevada didn't know what to think about that. To her, their whole program was still a top secret experiment. The very fact that they Navy was willing to establish new units just to help them fight, said a lot, but she decided to withhold judgement for now.

"I guess that makes sense," she allowed.

"Good," Mack replied, "We're here by the way. Do you want to make introductions?" Nevada nodded, and Mack pushed open the door.

She immediately winced when she heard Tuscaloosa's distinct voice shouting, "Bogue, I swear to god, if you messed with my stuff again, I'll give you a good 'ole country ass-whoopin. And don't think that little four stack sidekick of yours won't get the same treatment." Nevada cleared her throat loudly, causing the heavy cruiser to wheel around, "What?"

"Loosa, ehem," Nevada said, gesturing towards where Mack was standing.

"What, who's this?" Tuscaloosa asked, comically missing the point.

Nevada couldn't take it anymore, "Oh, for-this is our new CO. Don't you recognize the rank devices?" Tuscaloosa's eyes went wide as the severity of her mistake became apparent.

She finally came to attention and said, "I'm sorry ma'am, I had other things on my mind."

Mack waved her off, "That's alright. I'm just here to look over my girls, pay me no mind." Tuscaloosa shot Nevada a questioning look, to which the battleship replied with a shrug. "So you are?"

Tuscaloosa held out her hand, "USS Tuscaloosa, CA-37. Ready, willin, and able to kick some Abyssal ass."

"If you don't mind, you're a heavy cruiser, right?" Mack asked after taking her hand.

" _New Orleans_ class, last of the 'treaty cruisers'," Tuscaloosa replied. Mack started up a conversation with the cruiser that Nevada didn't really pay much attention too. She noticed something else, a certain escort carrier barreling into the room. The short girl, ran over to Tuscaloosa and put her face right in the cruiser's

"I swear Loosa, for the last time, I DIDN'T TOUCH YOUR STUFF." Nevada buried her face in her hands as Mack jumped at the carrier's entrance.

"Bogue," Nevada whispered, "CO."

"What do you mean, oh…" she said after getting a glimpse of Mack, "I messed up again, didn't I?"

"Depends," Mack said, "On who you would be?"

"Escort carrier Bogue. If you have a sub to hunt, I'm your girl," she replied, a note of pride replacing her earlier fear.

"Good to know," Mack replied, then asked Nevada, "Are there any more in your little group?"

"Ranger, Wichita, Benson, her DesRon, and Clemson," Tuscaloosa replied, ticking off her fingers.

"Now, where are they?" Nevada asked.

"Don't know about mini carrier's sidekick, but Ranger and Wichita went to the Nex. Benson and her girls getting settled upstairs," Tuscaloosa explained.

"I am not a mini carrier," Bogue replied indignantly.

"That is exactly what you are," Tuscaloosa quipped.

"Please, calm down girls," Mack interrupted the argument before it could begin. "Nevada, why don't you help the girls settle in. Then, when they all get back, come by my office and we can discuss strategy."

"That sounds fine, ma'am," Nevada replied.

Mack nodded, "Very well, have fun then." She walked out, leaving Nevada alone with her girls

"What was that all about?" Nevada asked once Mack was gone.

"She stole my shirt," Tuscaloosa replied, stabbing a finger at Bogue.

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Not."

"Too."

"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU," Nevada bellowed, "Thank you. Now, you're both lucky, our new CO seems like a reasonable person, and let you get away with that. But you better not do it again."

"Aye ma'am," Bogue mumbled.

"Fine," Tuscaloosa harrumphed.

"Now, you go get settled in," Nevada pointed at Tuscaloosa, "And you, go find Clemson before she breaks something." The two girls shot a look at each other, then disappeared. Nevada found herself wondering once more how the hell Captain Smith dealt with this on a regular basis.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

A few hours later, Nevada found herself in the Norfolk O-club, sharing a meal with Mack. "I want you to tell me about all of the girls," the commander asked, "The stuff that I can't get from the personnel reports."

"I don't exactly know what you want," Nevada replied.

"I want to know about everyone's personality. If I'm going to have to lead these girls, I want to know how they think. I got a little of that earlier, but I want to know more." Nevada took a long sip from her drink while she framed a reply.

"Bogue is hyperactive normally, and gets even worse when she sniffs out a submarine. That girl is a fiend when it comes to ASW. Clemson is the same way. She's a bit weaker compared the rest though, so she's always trying to prove that she's just as good as any other ship."

"They sound, colorful," Mack said.

"Ranger, the other carrier, is shy. She doesn't like new people or new situations, and she is very apprehensive about her own skills. It takes effort to get her to try anything. Tuscaloosa…" Nevada trailed off, "well you met here. She's like that pretty much on a regular basis. Wichita is kind and thoughtful. She's usually the one building up Ranger's confidence, or reigning in Tuscaloosa. Benson is professional. While some of her DDs can get a bit crazy at times, she does her best to keep them under control."

"I think that it's amazing how varied all of you are," Mack replied, "So what determines that, or is it just how you summon?"

"We don't really know," Nevada replied, staring down into her glass, "Captain Smith thinks that it's a combination of several things, but no one knows for sure just yet." Mack nodded her acknowledgement of that. She was about to say something, when a man wearing a uniform that Nevada didn't recognize walked over to Mack.

"Commander," he said, "I need to talk to you." He spoke with a British accent, and the strange uniform lead Nevada to guess that he had something to do with the English ship girl program. She had been told that they used Norfolk as a base of operations.

"Chief Farnsworth," Mack said, looking up at the man, "What can I do for you?"

"This is a heads up commander, I just got word that a convoy is en-route. It should be here in three days."

"What convoy?" Nevada interrupted.

"Damn, where are my manners," Mack stated, "Nevada, this is Chief Farnsworth, the local liaison to the British ship girl branch. And this is the Ensign Nevada, former USS _Nevada_ , and the highest ranking shipgirl on base."

Farnsworth spent several minutes looking at Nevada then said, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. We've been wondering how long it would take you yanks to get in on the ship girl racket."

"Likewise," Nevada replied, trying to get a read on this man.

"You mentioned a convoy?" Mack said, changing the subject.

"Yes, there'll be a convoy pulling in in three days. I have no idea who's running the escort."

"Thank you chief," Mack replied, "There anything else?"

"That's all for now, ma'am. I'll let you know if I hear anything else," Farnsworth said, gave Nevada a nod, then walked out.

"Interesting man, our liaison," Mack added once he had left. Nevada nodded silently. "We'll be getting some British girls as transients soon. From what I gather, they've been screaming for our help lately. You think your girls can do that."

"It's what we're here for," Nevada replied.

"Still, you think you can make a difference with the girls you have now?"

"It's not a case of if we can, it's a case of we have to."

"Do you think we can get some reinforcements soon?"

"Ma'am, I have no idea when more shipgirls will show up."

[][][][][][][][][][]

She was old. Her hull was tired, worn out. At one time her hull had been strong, able to withstand the heaviest of blows. Now it creaked and groaned with each passing of the tide. Where her paint was once pristine with an almost daily attention, now it was dull and neglected. Faded after years spent in the hot, Texas sun. The girl standing on top of the number two turret looked down at herself, and sighed. Her once bright blouse was faded and threadbare, just more evidence of her descent into obsolescence she figured. She slowly climbed down off the turret. It was getting harder and harder to move around her hull with each passing day. She figured that it wouldn't be long now until she was too tired to move at all. She could feel the water leaking in though her old seams, it was a constant reminder that her time was limited.

Besides the problems with herself, her life was easy these days. Just sit in the harbor, and go up and down with the tide. She was teaching the newest generation about her life, and her history with the Navy. It filled her with pride to watch as they walked around her decks, filled with awe at the sight of her big guns. She loved to follow their tour groups as they snakes their way through her spaces. Even if no one could see her, she watched them constantly.

That was before the war started. She still didn't know much past what she had heard, and what she could read from pilfered newspapers. All she knew was that the United States was at war against an enemy that was quickly sweeping the oceans clear. The Navy was trying to fight, but they were taking a pounding. Each week the paper would publish a list of local casualties, and each week the list only got longer. She wanted desperately to be able to help her comrades once more. To fire her 14" rifles in defense of her home. But the frailty of her hull, and the sluggishness of her step made that thought impossible. But she could still dream, couldn't she?

She walked out onto her foredeck, intending to get a good view as the sun rose over the city. It was a ritual she performed every morning, and a highlight of her days. A sharp pain in her hull, caused her to stumble. The pain started in her gut, then began to spread. She knew what this was, it had happened before. A seam had opened down near the waterline, and now she was taking on water at an alarming rate. She backed up against the number one turret, pain wracking her form now. She knew, just knew, that this time, she wouldn't be able to recover. She could feel herself starting to list, both in her keel, and in the angle of the deck under her feet. It wouldn't be long now before the list became too much to recover from.

The first time had almost killed her, and this time it felt much, much worse. "I just wanted to be able to help," she said softly. Tears rolling down her cheeks as the pain became unbearable. She slowly sank to the deck, back still propped against the turret. Slowly, her vision faded. "I guess this is it then," she muttered, even though there was no one to hear, "I wonder if I'll get to see York again." That was when everything went dark.

[]][][][][][][][][]

The morning was already starting to heat up, and the sun hadn't even crept over the horizon yet. For Eric Moreland, that meant that he didn't have much time before the heat went from uncomfortable, to intolerable. Well, better to get started with his rounds now so he could retreat into the air conditioned office to wait out the heat. He parked his car in the empty lot, and walked towards the ship that he had worked on for years. He was something of a jack of all trades on the museum's staff. He worked admin, lead tours, and his skill with a welding torch had been put to use on multiple occasions. He looked up at the battleship, and what he saw chilled him. The great battleship had a distinct list to port, and was riding very low in the water. A new leak was not something they needed right now, especially with funding as tight as it was. He swore loudly, then ran towards the ship, hoping to assess the damage. Once he was on deck, he could feel the list under his feet. About five degrees and slowly getting worse, he guessed.

He ran forwards, intending to enter from one of the forward access hatches, but he stopped when he noticed something. Leaning against the forward turret was a young woman. At first he was stunned by disbelief. There wasn't supposed to be anyone onboard. The gate had been locked, and she would have had to hop over an eight foot fence topped with barbed wire to even get on the ship. She didn't look like she was in any condition to try that.

She was wearing a blue blouse that matched color exactly with the turret she was leaning against, and a bright red skirt. Her clothes looked worn and faded, like she had worn them for a long time. Her hair was a long, dirty brown that was streaked with gray, which looked out of place against her young face. Her face was buried in her hands, and Eric could see the evidence of tears on her cheeks. Any earlier thoughts of anger towards this girl suddenly vanished. He reached a hand down to place it on her shoulder, then said in a comforting voice, "Hey, come on now. You can't be here." At first she didn't move, so he tried again. Slowly she looked up into his face, eyes red from tears.

She spent several minutes looking at the older man before she said with a weak voice, "You can see me?" The question surprised Eric, what did she mean by that?

"Of course I can see you, why wouldn't I?" She tried to stand, only to trip and fall forwards. Eric managed to catch her before she face planted into the deck. "Whoa, easy there now."

"Not, steady yet, can't feel my hull," she muttered.

"What? Wait, who are you?" Eric asked, not understanding the ramblings of this girl, at all.

"I'm Texas, I'm-I'm the ship," she said, stammering as she started to cry once more. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the larger man. "I popped another seam. I think its's too big to fix this time." Eric just stood there in stunned silence, holding onto the girl as his brain tried to process what she was telling him. "But I can't feel that anymore, all I can feel is me, and you."

"If you're Texas," he finally said, "Where did you come from?"

"Newport, I was built in Newport. I remember that, and my sister. York was so happy to have a little sister," her face took on a wistful expression as she remembered that. A loud groan from the hull reminded Eric of what was happening beneath his feet.

"Come on," he said, I need to call my superior about this. You can tell me some more, and I can get you some food."

"Ok-okay," she muttered. She remained wrapped around him as he started walking towards the gangplank. She stopped hesitantly as the approached.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just that, I've never been ashore. Every time I try to step off, I get stuck at the top." Eric was surprised, maybe she was telling the truth?

"Come on, it's not that hard," he said, then dragged her down. She looked stunned when her feet hit the ground. It took him several seconds to drag her into the main office. Then a few more to coax her into a chair. She sat there, looking down at herself, and looking up at him for several minutes. He walked into the breakroom to get her something to eat, then walked into the main office. This whole situation caused him to remember something.

About a month ago, he had gotten a visitor. While Naval officers in full uniform weren't particular rare aboard the battleship, ones wearing the stars of an admiral were. The man had spent almost an hour talking to Eric about something he called ship girls. Explaining that a young looking girl might appear on the ship out of nowhere claiming to be the ship. He had blown the man off at first, thinking that this was just some form of elaborate prank, but now he wasn't so sure. He had left Eric a card, which he now dug out.

Walking back to the lobby with the card in once hand, and his phone in the other, Eric saw that Texas was sitting in a chair, staring at the plate of food in front of her. "Something wrong?"

"It's just that I've never actually eaten food before," she replied with a shy smile.

Eric rolled his eyes, then said, "Just bite, chew, and swallow, not a lot to it." She nodded then forked up a mouthful. He shook his head as he dialed the admiral's phone number. Boy, would he have one story to tell him.

[][][][][][]

Took me long enough, but here's the update.

Reviews!:

Colonel AmiruddinArifSulaiman: I'm trying, but main fic takes precedence

.75873: Changed my mind halfway through writing and changed her rank, tried to catch all of them, but guessed I missed one.

Thorthemighty321: Yes they are in big trouble.

FrancisJames: Have to admit never playing or wanting to play Call of Duty. Don't really know what Ranger's going to be like yet though.

F-14 Tomcat Lover: I have other plans for Wasp, and I'm trying to avoid the explosion of my last fic.

Wolfman-053: Well she did, and I'm not sure on that one yet. Trying to avoid Texas(Because I'm an Oklahoma fan, sue me), though I did make Tuscaloosa a Bama fan(And I'm attending Auburn).

Celestia's Paladin: I try, thanks for that.

ijpowers92: Do have plans for Guadalcanal, but again, I'm trying to avoid adding too many characters too quickly.


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